


Tea at 221A

by glenien



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221a, Angst, Coda, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Episode: s01e02 The Blind Banker, Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Let them kiss, M/M, Mrs. Hudson for the president of TJLC club, Soft!John, Tea, Vague references for Season 4, hudders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glenien/pseuds/glenien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times… six… eight… <i>many</i> times John has taken tea at Mrs. Hudson’s and one time he didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea at 221A

**Author's Note:**

> A non-British, writing about tea?! This might be a bad idea…

# Tea at 221A

 

“Oh, cheers.”

“Here, do you take?...” She offers the sugar bowl.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Doctor Watson smiles politely. “Again, so sorry for troubling you, it’s just- we haven’t had time to go out for shops, yet.”

The landlady laughs it off. “Oh, no worries, dear. I’m not your _housekeeper_ but I think I can afford to offer you some tea,” She shares a secret smile with him behind her flowery tea cup, then pushes the overflowing biscuit plate. “Take some, don’t be shy.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Hudson, you’re so kind.”

“So, Doctor Watson-”

“ _John_ , please.”

“John. It seems like you’ve had a nice time running around with Sherlock, last night.”

“Oh, well… I wouldn’t call it _nice_ , but-”

“Don’t worry dear, I’m all used to Sherlock’s frankly awful manners. You can speak as you like.”

“In that case,” John laughs, “Yes, I suppose, it was nice.”

Mrs. Hudson gives him a fond look. “Did Sherlock work his magic? I noticed you are not limping anymore.”

Unconscious about it, John gives his knee a squeeze as if he still cannot believe he doesn’t need his cane. “Um, yes. He did,” A small smile appears at the corner of his hardened mouth. “I suppose he did, yeah.”

Mrs. Hudson gushes out. “Oh, he is kind of amazing, isn’t he? Did he tell you about my husband’s case?”

“He is, yeah. He really is,” John shakes his head, still looking a bit dazed about it, “And yes, he told me. I am not sure how to… I am sorry about your loss?”

“Oh, don’t be. Late Mr. Hudson was a horrible, _horrible_ man.” She swiftly moves on. “But enough about me. I am so glad that you two made friends. Sherlock could _really_ use someone. To _look after him_ , I mean. Oh, that boy gets in _lots_ of trouble.”

John chuckles. “Well, um, I won’t be denying that.”

“I mean, look at you,” Mrs. Hudson gives him a look of appreciation. “An army doctor, you’ve said? Reliable, _handsome_ …”

“Oh, ta. Um,” John fidgets while she gets up the fill their cups again. “Mrs. Hudson- did you hear when I said?... Sherlock and I, uh- we are not boyfriends. I’ve just met him, in fact.”

“Oh dear, don’t you worry,” Martha pushes another perfectly prepared cup in front of him. “I told you, we’ve got all kinds in here. It _really_ doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, um, but-” John struggles to take both his renewed cup and the offered biscuits, “I am not really- we are not-”

Martha sighs. “And the poor soul, he _really_ doesn’t have anyone, you know? Apart from that rude brother. You’ll be good for him, I can already tell.”

“Oh… he, um,” John seems to have totally forgotten what he was saying before. “He doesn’t have any other visitors?”

Martha shakes her head sadly. “No. Well, it has been just a week since he moved in, but… We did see each other a lot, back when we were in Florida, you know. I could tell. That one is a one lonely soul.”

“Oh… He did… kind of implied before, but… he _really_ doesn’t see anyone?” John leans forward a bit.

“No, dear. No friends, no family, no boyfriends… now, don’t take me for an old fool, dear,” Martha pauses, “I know he can be scandalously rude but he has such a heart of gold underneath, as well. It’s a shame to leave it that empty.”

“Oh…” Doctor Watson seems lost in thought, he pushes his cup up, only to notice that it is already empty. “Um, I should be going. The shops won’t be doing themselves, right?” He weakly laughs. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Anytime, dear. It gets quiet here too, sometimes, so feel free to drop by anytime for a little chat.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Bye, John.”

 

***

 

“I’ve heard the yelling dear and put the kettle on. Take a seat.”

“Oh… _Jesus_ … he is going to drive me mad! _Jesus… Christ_ … on a bike- do you have a couple of bite, as well? I am starving, I haven’t had a single thing today… first the _ceiling_ , then the _shower_ \- _God_ , the state of that _fridge_ , I can’t even think about-”

“Here, here, dear. Just fresh out of the oven, take some...”

“Oh, Mrs. Hudson, you are a saint… unlike some DEVIL reincarnated up there!”

The violent abuse of the violin from upstairs comes to a screech. “ _I can still HEAR YOU YAPPING AWAY, JOHN!_ ”

“ _CLEAR THE GODDAMN FRIDGE BEFORE I CAME UP, SWEAR TO GOD_ \- sorry, Mrs. Hudson, you don’t need this.”

“It’s okay, dear. Give him some time to cool down, he’ll do it.”

“ _God_ , he gave me so much _grief_ today… I was supposed to call Sarah, I’ve completely forgotte- oh, these scones are delicious, Mrs. Hudson...”

“Eat some more, come on. I have some cake too; it will take a few minutes.”

“Oh, you are a true angel. _Jesus_ , I already feel so much better.”

“The blood sugar, dear, give it some time… So, how is it going with Sarah? She seems like a nice young woman. Doctor, you have said?”

John inhales two more scones. “Yes, she’s uh- she’s great.”

Martha smiles. “Oh, lovely. A woman like that, she wouldn’t be single for long. I suppose she’ll want you to meet her family, soon?..”

John coughs out the food gone to the wrong pipe. “What?... Uh,” He nervously laughs, “No, um, she’s _great_ but-”

Martha pats his hand. “Oh, I understand, dear. You are not _that_ serious about her.”

John hurriedly swallows his gulp of tea. “No, no, I am, of course- _JESUS, SHERLOCK, WOULD YOU KEEP IT DOWN?_ ”

Upstairs, something heavy crashes to the floor.

Martha takes a sip of her own tea. “It’s for better, really, if you are not serious. Not your kind of thing, now, is it?”

“Well, ye- uh- actually…” John pauses from buttering another scone. “What do you mean, not _my_ kind of thing?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Well, if you were, serious about her, I mean… she’s not getting younger, is she? Like any woman of her situation, she would want to marry and have children, I suppose.”

John drops his knife with a loud clatter. “ _Marry?!_ ”

Martha smiles, pleased. “See, it’s for the better.”

“I- uh. Um.” John looks confused.

“More tea, dear?”

“Yes, uh- thank you.”

It’s suddenly very silent in both 221A and B.

Mrs. Hudson winks at him. “See? He has calmed down. Let’s give him half an hour and maybe you’ll see that horrible fridge a bit cleaner.”

John smiles down to his cup. “How do you do that, seriously?”

“I just know him, dear,” Martha squeezes his forearm. “You do too, when you think about it.”

John has two minutes to contemplate that thought, until something comes loudly tumbling down the stairs. 

“ _John_ , there has been a murder! Quickly, stop your dillydallying- _stop feeding him up, Mrs. Hudson!_ ”

“Take care, dears! Oh John, take the rest of the scones as well, make sure he eats-”

“Gotta dash, _thank you_ Mrs. Hudson!”

“Go, go, don’t be silly… _Sherlock Holmes_ , don’t you _dare_ run off without him, you absolute boar!”

“ _Bye_ , Mrs. Hudson!”

 

***

 

“So, is _she_ really gone?”

“Yes, she is. She truly is…” John sighs, “And I suppose he knows it too.”

Martha gives him a pitying look. “That’s for the better, you know it, John. You can’t ever hide anything from him. He’s like a cat.”

“Yeah, I know,” John slowly nods into his tea cup. “How are you doing? Any bruising left? Are you resting that wrist?”

“Oh, I’m just fine dear. Don’t you worry. I’ll call on you if anything feels off.”

“You’ll be sure to do _that_.”

She smiles fondly at him. They spend a few minutes drinking their tea.

“Uh, Mrs. Hudson?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember the first time, I uh- I moved in here,” John fidgets uncomfortably, his voice going lower with each sentence. “You were quite sure that uh… that Sherlock had a boyfriend. So, if you didn’t know if he ever has… how did you?...”

“Oh, _John_.”

“What? What is it?” John lets out a nervous chuckle. “Come on, you can tell me.”

Martha is silent for a couple of long minutes. “It’s in the looks, dear. He was all flustered before you even showed up, talking and gushing about you. He was _really_ excited.”

“Oh… was he? _He_ was?” John seems flabbergasted.

“Also…”

“What?”

Martha bites her lower lip. “Well, you might not like it.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Well, I suppose you are not going to like it, judging from the comments on your blog.”

“What is it?”

“He has this _look_ , when he looks at you,” Martha’s voice is gentle. “And you have it too.”

“…”

“I know that sometimes, we think something is so impossible that it could _not_ be true. I spend years _and years_ thinking that I would be dead in a ditch before I could _ever_ get rid of my husband... but then, something _miraculous_ happened.”

“What happened?” John asks softly.

“Sherlock came by. _Think_ about it, John.”

 

***

 

“Oh, John, I’m so sorry...”

John kneels down by her chair. “It’s no bother, Mrs. Hudson, I’m a doctor, see?”

“So late in the night, as well...”

“It’s _what_ I do. Don’t you dare. Now, lift again. Again? Ah- _here_ , yes.”

“Oh, it hurts… is it broken?”

“No, no, I don’t think it is. I will schedule an appointment for you in the morning, though, just to be safe. Let me wrap it tight now and give you some painkillers. Lucky for you, I _always_ keep in hand some supplies, because of well... _him_.”

“Oh, I don’t know about lucky,” Martha chuckles and gives them both a fond look.

“I will be right back.”

“…”

“…”

“Oh, don’t give me _that_ look, dear.”

“…”

“All right, you need to eat something before you take these. Now, I’m no chef- but I’ll do you the Watson special, if that’s acceptable?”

“Oh, are you sure? You’re so kind.”

“Just don’t move, rest and let me handle it.”

“That’s _not_ where she keeps the bread, John,” A sulky Sherlock comments from where he is perched, still in his pyjamas.

“Shut up. You’ll be eating too, as well?”

“I _suppose_.”

“Fine. Start on that tea, then. Come on, you lazy bums.”

Sherlock grumbles inaudibly, but gets up. As John flutters around, getting out eggs and milk and trying to pin down the utensils needed, Sherlock seamlessly supplies him with their right places while putting the kettle on. Soon, delicious smells fill the kitchen.

Mrs. Hudson chuckles and sighs. “Look at you both, my lovely boys.”

John clears his throat, smiling, a bit embarrassed. He grabs a dish towel to efficiently scrub his grey shirt he just splashed a bit of milk on it and turns down the stove.

Mrs. Hudson carefully takes her tea from Sherlock’s offering hands. A nice plate of eggs, bacon and toast follows it after. “ _Bon appétite_ ,” John says with a truly bad French impression and a cheeky smile.

Sherlock has a plate in front of him too, with two pieces of buttered toast with crumbs cut off.

“You can put your own jam,” John grumbles, pushing at him a jar of strawberries, but it’s mostly for show. Sherlock seems very pleased. He gives John a look and then wordlessly, starts eating.

With cheeks a bit flamed, John takes a large gulp of his tea. “How is it?”

“It’s very good John, thank you.”

“It’s _average_ , she means.”

“Sherlock! _Manners_ , young man.”

“Sorry. This is adequately prepared though, John.”

John seems to be fighting hard to keep his smile in. “Thank you. I am glad you enjoy it.”

“I always do. More?”

John loses the battle to his grin and gets up to toast more bread.

Behind his back, Sherlock winks at Mrs. Hudson.

She laughs quietly and hides it behind her hand. She gives him a pointed look. Sherlock’s smile diminishes a bit when she catches his hand. He steals a glance at John.

Martha draws her hand back before John manages to bring new toasts to Sherlock, again without crusts. This time, he takes one piece from Sherlock’s plate to butter it for himself too.

“Have you ever visited Devon?” he asks, “Lovely countryside. Well apart from vicious dogs…” John grins.

“I have not,” Martha smiles, “Had a lovely adventure, you two?”

“Well, yeah. I won’t be soon accepting any drink from Sherlock but, yeah it was nice.”

Sherlock opens his mouth in a dramatic protest. “You are just _now_ drinking my tea!”

“Oh, well,” John grins. “It always has the chance of being poisoned, anyway.”

Sherlock’s face does something complicated and ends up with a small smile. “I wouldn’t ever insist upon challenging your culinary expertise, John.”

“Oh, _wouldn’t_ you, now? It would be nice to see some challenging, every now and then, you know?”

“It’s always good to take a few days off to the country,” Martha interrupts, “The city’s good and all, but the _air_ -”

“Yeah…”

“I always loved Sussex.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Hmm.”

“Sussex, really?”

“Yes. Much higher quality of pollens with a successful production circle for the bee hives.”

“Bees? Is this about bees, again?”

“They are _fascinating_ creatures, John.”

“Well, I’m just glad you are not trying to keep them in the house, I guess… so what, is this your retirement plan?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice,” John smiles at him, looking a bit confused. “I can’t really picture you living in the country but yeah, nice.”

“I might. If I have enough stimulation. And good enough company, I suppose.” Sherlock looks directly at him.

For one second, John is completely flustered. He stumbles with his tea, accidentally clinking the cup against its plate, quickly getting up to bring a smiling Mrs. Hudson her meds. “Here you go, take two if you want. You don’t want to be sore in the morning.”

“Oh, thank you, John. I kept you all awake, I’m sorry.”

“No need. No, no, stop it- we will handle the dishes… just, go to bed. Sherlock, will you?..”

“ _Of course_.”

Sherlock helps Mrs. Hudson to limp back to her room. When he is back, John is forcefully drying everything he just finished washing.

“She is sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Come on then, let’s go up.”

He pauses while Sherlock is quietly closing the door to 221A. “Did you mean it? I mean… retiring. Were you really serious?”

Sherlock shrugs. “I might be above the human nation in terms of intellectual prowess, John, but even I can’t do this until the ends of days.”

“Well. Yes.” John looks torn. “But… I mean-”

“Don’t worry. I am sure we still will have lots of time before then.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” John trails off.

In the darkness of seventeen steps between 221A and 221B, Sherlock waits.

John looks up to him. “Never mind. Go on.” He climbs past him.

 

***

 

“…”

“John, please.”

“…”

“Oh please, dearest.”

“…”

“Just one sip.”

“…”

“One sip, for me.”

“…”

“You _have_ _to_ eat something.”

“…”

“Oh, darling,” Martha rubs her own tears away, gulping down painful sobs, holding out a hand for him. “Oh, you poor darling… that boy, that horrible, _horrible_ , _wonderful_ boy…”

“…”

 

***

 

“Oh, _thank God_ , it’s over. They all left. I suppose it will be all over the news now. Is Mary gone?”

“Yes, she said she had things to do. Oh, you don’t have to take off so soon, do you? I had tea prepared.”

“Oh, cheers, Mrs. Hudson. Well, no…. no, I suppose I can take a few minutes.”

“Excellent. Now, sit. I have your favourite cake. Sherlock won’t be down soon, not after all that fuss.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I couldn’t even ask… how are you? Did you like Mary?”

“Oh, she is quite sweet. Clever, too.”

“Yes, she is quite excellent, isn’t she?”

“She does look out for you, that’s for sure.”

“Yes, she does.” John smiles. “I can’t wait to marry her.”

“Oh, look at you,” Mrs. Hudson smiles back to him. “So sweet.”

“And Sherlock liked her too, so that’s always a good thing,” John chuckles. “Remember how he used to scatter all my other girlfriends away?”

“Oh no, dear. We both know that was _all_ on you.”

“What?” John exclaims and then laughs. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, now. Mary is great.”

Martha gives him a placatory smile. “She truly is.”

John continues, excited. “We are looking for somewhere nice in the suburbs, now. Might need to buy a car. It’s a bit far... I also need to practice, I did not drive a thing since I was… nineteen, I guess?”

“You’ll do fine, dear. Oh, look at you, all settled and with a plan and everything.”

“Yes…” John smiles, then grows thoughtful, opens his mouth and then closes. “How did _you_ … oh, sorry.”

“Oh, ask away.”

“How did you and your husband meet? Was it a nice proposal?”

“He used to come to my shows… the attraction was instant. I was a bit of a romantic, though, dear- a couple of flowers there, a bit of nice words and kindness there, I thought he was the man I should be marrying. But looks could be deceiving, I suppose.”

“Right.”

“Oh, look at me, prattling about. No need to worry. You should just focus on the wedding and everything will be fine.”

“Yes. Well, Mary handles everything, anyway,” John says weakly, his face finally looking young without that horrible moustache. “I am useless when it comes to flowers and planning, so...”

“Oh, it will be fine.”

John muses. “Maybe Sherlock could help me. You know… he is excellent with suits and stuff.”

“I don’t know, dear.”

“Why not? He always looks amazing.”

“Well, that he does.”

“I should ask him. You know, to be my best man,” John laughs, a bit self-conscious, “I mean, who else is going to be?”

“As you like,” Mrs. Hudson supplies.

“Yeah… well as soon as we have a date.” John decides, “I don’t have a date yet.”

The door bangs open. “ _HUDDERS!_ Where did you put- _oh_...” A fresh out of shower Sherlock wrapped up in his dressing gown, with wet curls dripping into the neck of his shirt, is struck still at the threshold. “You haven’t left yet?”

John swallows. “Um, no. I’m… I’m having a tea.”

“It’s where it always is, dear. Such a _boy_ , I swear…”

Sherlock hastily turns towards her. “It’s not there!”

“And I’ve met your mother, young man, really, you have no excuse. Let me look it up,” Mrs. Hudson starts going up the stairs, calling out to her back. “Finish up, John, dear!”

When she is gone, Sherlock awkwardly sits on the kitchen table, at the opposite of John. “I thought, you… um.”

John finishes up his tea hurriedly. “Yes, um, I should...”

Sherlock lashes out a hand and stands up as well. “You don’t have to… I mean, we can...”

“No, no,” John laughs self-deprecatingly, “Mary should be waiting for me… I uh, I will drop by after work, if um- if there is any case?”

“Of course,” Sherlock desperately nods.

“Good. Good… um.” John makes a move to get past Sherlock. He doesn’t move out of the way.

“See you later, John,” Sherlock says softly.

John swallows. His pupils dilate. “Bye.”

Sherlock closes his eyes as the 221A’s door opens.

 

***

 

“ _JESUS_. _Christ._ Why did I think it was a good idea to get prepared in here?! I don’t live in here anymore!! I don’t have any stuff-”

“The bride needs the house more than you do. Now, come on, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down!! _Mrs. Hudson!_ Mrs. Hudson, do you have a sewing needle? This goddamn- button-”

“Here, give it here, dear. Take it off, I’ll take care of it right away.”

John sits down in 221A’s kitchen with his undershirt and the groom outfit, minus the white shirt.

“When does the car come pick us up?”

“Appropriately in twenty minutes. John. You are panicking. Stop panicking.”

“Okay,” John breathes out deeply. He pulls at his red polka suspenders currently hanging down on his waist. “Who picked those? God, they look _silly_.”  

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “You did, against all my protest and you thought they looked _funny_. Stop. _Panicking_. John.”

“Okay. _Okay_. Alright...” John laughs nervously. “Wow, I’ve never thought I would be one of those having cold feet, you know?”

Sherlock looks like a deer frozen in its tracks. “No.”

“Right,” John brushes his sweaty palms against the legs of his trousers, “Sorry if I don’t remember any of the waltz.”

Sherlock pats him on the shoulder, very lightly and very quickly. “You’ll do fine, John. It is just Mary. She knows you. Better than I do.”

John is utterly shocked. “Nobody knows me better than _you_.”

Sherlock is speechless.

Mrs. Hudson shows up with the shirt. “Here you go, all done. Oh, John, you look so lovely. So do you Sherlock.”

John puts it on and starts tucking everything correctly. “Thanks, Mrs. Hudson. You will be arriving later?”

“Yes, yes, you two go on. Emma is going to drop by to do my hair.”

“Good. Good. Shall we?” John looks up to Sherlock.

“The car, John.”

“Right. God, I am a mess.” John laughs and covers his face.

Both Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock share a look.

“I’ll get you a cuppa for the road, how about that?”

“Yes, exactly- _Hudders_ , make sure to put a lot of that bottle-”

“Oh, don’t. I don’t want to…” John seems to be reconsidering. “Just a splash, maybe. _Jesus_.” He blinks and it is like the room is a bit clearer. He notices Sherlock. “She is right though, you do look great.”

Sherlock flusters a bit. “Thank you. I am wearing the exact same thing as you- almost, the exact same.”

John smiles at him. “Well, you look smashing. You will be turning lots of heads, that’s for sure.” When he sees Sherlock grow uncomfortable, he quickly adds, “If that’s your thing, that is... you don’t have to.”

Sherlock stands a bit straighter. “I know I don’t have to.”

John despairs. “Just. Trying to be nice.”

“I know. Thank you.” Sherlock pauses a second. “Mary is a lucky woman.”

“Here you go,” Mrs. Hudson deposits a very strong smelling cup into John’s hands.

Sherlock continues, “I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun at your sex holiday.”

John almost bursts out his tea.

“ _Sherlock!_ ” Mrs. Hudson covers her mouth.

“What? Isn’t it what it is called?”

John can feel himself growing red up to his ears and it has nothing to do with the hot rum tea. “Please. I beg of you. Do not _ever_ call it that again.”

“It’s not like it is a secret that you two have extramarital relations, John.”

Martha laughs loudly and disappears inside her living room. John is utterly grateful for her discretion. “Yes, but- it’s not… it’s not on…”

Sherlock sits down next to him. “Don’t worry. Gavin gave me a crash course on every possible thing you might need- I have all kinds of supplies stashed on me.”

He pulls open his dinner jacket to reveal a complicated looking system of pockets, each of them revealing at least five different kind of lubes, condoms, massaging oils, pills…   

John grabs his hand to stop him from spilling all of that out. “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m going to _kill_ Greg.”

Sherlock looks hurt.

John clears his throat and grabs his hand to squeeze it. “Sherlock… I, I appreciate the thought. I don’t think I will need them. I mean, I meant to say- that I have them. That’s kind of you to… think of me. Please, now, go upstairs and dispose all of… whatever you are carrying _discreetly_ to 221B and let’s never talk about this, _ever again_ , okay?”

Sherlock is worried. “Are you sure? Five to twenty per cent of women do get pregnant during their sex holidays.”

John closes his eyes. “I’m a doctor. She is a nurse. We are _quite_ sure.”

Sherlock looks a bit embarrassed. He disappears upstairs for a second.

John gulps down his cup. He can still hear Mrs. Hudson laughing inside.

A very subsided Sherlock reappears. “It is done,” he says glumly.

“Thank you,” John breathes out. Then he looks up to him. Then he starts laughing.

A grin appears at the corner of Sherlock’s mouth.

There is a honk of a car, outside.

John looks much more relaxed. He takes Sherlock by his elbow. “Come on, let’s go.”

He doesn’t see Martha putting a condom to his jacket’s pocket. Sherlock grins widely at her.

 

***

 

_221B._

Startled, John jumps and the kitchen knife he was loosely holding on, clatters away.

Mrs. Hudson looks aggrieved. “Oh, sorry… I thought, you will be in need of tea.”

John shakes his head off like getting rid of the water and bends down to grab the knife. “No, no, sorry, it’s just- I’m just… jumpy.”

Martha puts the tea tray down to a small table and comes closer to look at the sleeping figure on the bed. “How is he, John?”

Exhausted, John blinks and blinks. “He um, he tore two of his stitches. I barely convinced them to let him go AMA under my own responsibility. But, um, but I had to. You know,” He slurs the words, “I couldn’t protect him when he was in the hospital. I had to have him, here.”

“John...”

John rubs his face. “It’s just. I’m just. So tired. I don’t have any clothes. I can’t go… back. There. Where she-”

Mrs. Hudson touches his shoulder. “Just, lay down for a while. I’ll look after him. I promise to wake you if anything seems wrong.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” John squeezes his eyes again.

“I’ll bring you an extra blanket,” Mrs. Hudson disappears from the room.

John looks down to a bloodless Sherlock, in a drugged sleep. His hands are carefully tucked away from wandering towards the bullet wound. Automatically, John takes his pulse. And then shuffles to lay down next to him.

When Martha shows up again with a blanket, John is already fast asleep. His entire body is curled towards Sherlock and his fingers are still on his wrist.

Ten minutes later, Mycroft walks in. He carefully takes the knife from John’s loose hand and puts his gun underneath his pillow, while Anthea disposes a bag full of John’s possessions to the living room. Silently, he sits down next to Mrs. Hudson and sips her offered tea. They both watch over John and Sherlock.

 

 ***

 

…

 

***

 

 

“Mrs. Hudson is not home?”

“Gone for shopping. Come on. Just borrow her milk so we don’t have to come down in the morning.”

“I can’t just- _Sherlock_ ,” John laughs.

“What?” he grins back, “She is already buying a new one.” He grabs a few biscuits out of the jar she has hidden at the top of the fridge.

John laughs harder. “Jesus, you are like a toddler.”

Sherlock chews, “It’s so good.”

“Hmm?”

“Mmm,” Sherlock responds, swallows and bends down for a kiss. John grabs him by the collar of his damned coat to draw him even closer, licking into his mouth, trapping his lower lip between his teeth, snogging the hell out of him.

Sherlock lets out a small moan and pushes him against the kitchen counter, managing to hit the fridge and almost knocking down a jar. John makes a desperate noise as he is lifted up to the counter, the back of his calves hitting Sherlock’s legs.

“God, _Sherlock_ …” He lets out a breathless moan, as his zipper is lowered and a warm hand sneaks in, “We can’t, we- oh, shit-keep, keep going...”

Sherlock lets out another hum to his lips and licks and sucks on his neck. John almost bites down his own tongue. “Jesus,” he gasps, “Fu- Sherlo… I’m- I’m gonn-”

“ _Children!_ ”

“ _Fuck_ ,” John swears loudly. “Oh God- shit, no, no-”

He grabs Sherlock from moving away, Sherlock coughs loudly while helping John to cover himself behind his coat. “Jesus Christ, we are very sorry- sorry, Mrs. Hudson…”

“Now, I do understand young love and you two certainly deserve it! But my kitchen counter is _strictly_ for making tea _only_ , do I make myself quite clear?!”

“Yes, um,” John is red up to his eyeballs, “Very, very, very sorry Mrs. Hudson- um… could you give us a minute to uh…”

Sherlock interrupts loudly. “We’ll put your groceries while you rest your feet.”

“Yes… that… excellent,” John sounds faint.

Mrs. Hudson gives them both a hardened look. “No funny business.”

Sherlock shakes his head wildly; he is so mortified he can’t even look at her. While she disappears into her living room, they can hear her laughing.

John is still on the counter, afraid to even take a breath, still leaking and hard. He looks up to the ceiling and swallows. “Please,” he begs, “Please, just-” His cock twitches.

Sherlock quickly starts putting the groceries back in their places.

When John is finally able to zip himself up again, he calls up inside. “I, um- I’ve put the kettle on Mrs. Hudson. We- uh, we’ll leave you now.”

“To _have sex_ ,” Sherlock clarifies.

“ _Jesus_ ,” John despairs.

“Put on your mufflers that I’ve bought you!”

Mrs. Hudson yells back. “Thank you dear, now go have fun!”

John starts laughing at the eleventh step of the stairs, then giggling when they are both in Sherlock’s room, then kisses him into the bed.

“God I love you, you mad man,” he says.

Sherlock smiles at him fondly.

 

***

 

“Thanks, Mrs. Hudson, again, no milk left…” John says loudly and drops his voice into a whisper. “Have you?...”

“Yes, yes, wait here…”

She silently moves to the kitchen, grabbing both the milk and the small black box she has been hiding inside her favourite teapot since two weeks.

John ignores the milk and takes the box, both of his hands are shaking when he opens it to check the contents inside.

Martha dries her already flowing tears and kisses him in the cheek. “Good luck,” she whispers.

John lets out a deep breath.

Upstairs, Sherlock starts playing Pachelbel's Canon in D Major.

**Author's Note:**

> Dumbledore takes his tea lessons from Martha Hudson herself.


End file.
